Fullmetal Sorcery
by xBookEaterx
Summary: After a terrible fight with Alphonse, Edward Elric is victim of a madman's alchemic transmutation- and ends ups in Camelot, knocking an unsuspecting Merlin unconscious. Merlin wonders who is this strange man whose golden eyes scream 'magic', and whether he'll be able to add keeping Ed alive to his already eternal to-do-list. Parental!Roy, humor, angst, drama, and prats... Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: It's driving me nuts that I haven't updated anything for AGES. Yes, I am aware that I've been an a**, leaving my stories incomplete. But share my side on this one. With me in the final stages to finishing High School, writing fanfiction ended up NOT in my top-10-things-to-do list. I knew that if I posted ANYTHING, I wouldn't be able to keep up. Still... I miss Wattpad and too much.**

 **I had first planned on finishing this whole fanfic from beggining to end before I posted it, but I can't wait anymore. I've been developing this story in my mind for several months now, and I think I've got the storyline pretty much covered. I have a few chapters done, and I'll try not to leave too much time in between every time I post one.**

 **So, I hope you enjoy reading this Fullmetal x Merlin Crossover. I hate that there are so few of these- or good ones, at least. I'll try my best, so that you get the thrill I would like to experience while reading a FMAxMerlin fanfic.**

 **I've been dying for you to read it!**

 **I love you all, as always.**

 **xBookEaterx is back :D**

 **:.-Prologue-.:**

 **A brothers' fight**

"Brother, you really should be less violent towards the Colonel. He's doing all he can."

The Elric brothers sprinted, more than walked, through the streets of Central City. After another failed mission in West City, the Fullmetal Alchemist boisterously barged into Colonel Mustang's office to deliver his report. The fact that it had been rainy the last few days didn't help matters any, that with the Colonel being a moody wet match in rainy days and Ed's automail ports hurting like hell. Needless say that the conversation had gone wrong since it began, and thus, Ed was now seriously pissed off. " _'All he can'_ my ass! That bastard sent us on another useless mission- again!"

"Yes, but-"

"I want to get you your body back as soon as possible, and all these missions do is wear me out!"

"Still-"

Ed skidded to a halt and spun around. "Don't defend him Al! He's a jerk!"

"A jerk that cares for both of us, brother! Can't you see?" Al grabbed Ed's shoulders, his soul-filled eyes boring into the furious golden ones. Their conversation was starting to make people stare. Ed was shaking, either it be because of the cold rain or the ache in his ports. He glowered.

"Tch! You can't rely on people like him! Or anybody! HE ISN'T OUR FATHER!"

"He might as well be!" Somewhere in his sensible mind, Alphonse became aware of the people stopping to hear what they fought about. The Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother were famous in Central, after all. Growling, he grabbed his brother by the collar of his red jacket, ignoring his protests, and pulled him into an alley. Now he felt outraged too. "And who brought dad into this conversation?!" he seethed. "You always get so mad if I bring him up, you won't ever let me talk about him, but deep inside, you are the one who misses him the most!"

"It's his fault that mom died!"

"And ours for killing her again!" Al screeched, and Ed gaped. He suddenly stopped fighting his brother's grasp and felt rage, shame and an unbearable sadness wash over him like the rain that evening. "You- you are so selfish, brother! You never let anyone care for you, but the fact is that we care! And you are so focused on correcting your mistakes that you've forgotten that the present is still here! I'm here! I need you too! Why won't you let me have a try at the happiness of knowing what it feels like to have a father?"

Ed croaked. "He's not-"

"I KNOW THAT! And I understand that we promised to get our bodies back, that we don't have a home to return to… but yet- I can't help but wish for it! Don't you, too?" The brothers were so immerse into their conversation that they failed to notice the creeping figure approaching from the shadows. "Aren't you tired of pushing everyone away? Answer me! Tell me! Brother!"

"I FORGOT!"

"What?"

"I forgot, alright?! I don't remember how it feels to truly trust someone! And it's not my fault either." Ed clenched his fists. "You should stop trying to lecture me, Alphonse! Time and again you just make me feel guiltier! Don't you think I know I messed up?"

"You did!" Al spat.

"But you are not free from blame! You're the one whose stupid trust has gotten us in so much trouble!"

"You are one to talk! At least I don't jump into trouble just because I lack the ability to think before I act!"

"Everything I do is for you, Alphonse! You should know that!"

"I know! But then, why do we always fail?! Huh? Why do we always come back here empty-handed? You should've figured out something! It's your fault we are in this mess, after all!"

Stunned silence.

The figure crept closer.

Al seemed to realize what he'd said and held out his hands. "Brother-"

"Save it, Al." Came the quiet response. Ed's bangs darkened his face. "I know."

"I-"

"Let's just go."

As Ed turned, the man in the dark smiled and crouched, a mad glint in his eyes as he put his hands to the ground. The brothers had no time to react as there was a flash of purple light and the earth shook. Ed stared at the ground beneath his feet, aghast.

He knew what a transmutation circle was.

"BROTHER!"

The man cackled. "You get what you deserve, murderer!"

Ed couldn't move. The air whipped at everything in the alley. The rain hit his face and soaked him to the bone. It was cold. "ALPHONSE!" He tried to move his hands to perform alchemy, but his body betrayed him and his automail stayed still. He rose his eyes to the man "Why are you doing this?!"

The man smiled again, making his way through the rising gale towards the young alchemist. A knife appeared out of nowhere onto his hand and he slashed at his torso, leaving a deep gash. "Die."

The energy of the transmutation was such that it send Al's armour flying against the wall. "ALPHONS-" Ed's scream was cut short. Aside from his painful inflicted injury, something was grabbing at his chest, it felt as if it meant to rip him from the inside to the outside. Then, came the pain in his right foot, his left arm, his head… His automail ports were on fire. Ed clawed at his face, trying to tear the pain from his body. This felt too familiar.

His fingers came away red and his vision blurred. He clutched his torso, the pain worsening. He knew he had something to do. There was someone he needed to protect. Who was it? _Who was it?_

"BROTHER!"

 _Alphonse!_

Cold.

 _His little brother!_

"ALPHONSE!"

 _Fear._

"DON'T DO THIS!"

 _Pain._

Ed's scream was haunted. "ALPHONSE!"

 _…_

 _Silence._


	2. 1 Of Herbs and Laundry

**Hello, guys! First, I wanted to thank all of you who've read my story so far. Here's the second chapter (which is really short, but it's still an update that I'd rather not delay).**

 **I also wanted to answer to these reviews that made my week! I really appreciate your support!**

Sky-Girl1999: **Thank you so much! I'll be placing my focus mainly on the BBC Series of Merlin, but I intend to- at least- include one or two elements related to the actual legend :)**

GingerTyPerior **and** Guest1: **Thank you so much! :D**

NotCharlie: **Thank you for reading! Hope not to disappoint :) Personally, I like Brotherhood better than FMA, so this story will probably stick more to that precise world. However, there are elements from FMA (like the gate and the AUs- no spoilers, right?) that I like so much that I have to include them :)**

 ** _Thanks so much to paintbuckets , who helped me by pointing out a hilarious typo (popped vs. pooped- wtf? hahaha). Thank you for saving me from further embarrassment! Any help with pointing out mistakes in my stories is much appreciated! Also, English is not my first language, so even if the mistake's not a typo, please tell me!_**

 **Thanks for your support :D**

 **Please keep reading, and enjoy!**

 **Love, xBookEaterx**

 **One.:**

 **Of Herbs and Laundry**

"MERLIN!"

"Yes, _sire?_ " Merlin's impish grin popped into the room.

"You forgot to do the laundry. Again."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry sire. You stink."

Arthur gaped. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

" _Merlin_ " Arthur seethed.

"Laundry, right away sire!" the manservant ran from the king, all the way laughing his head off.

Rosemary, a sweet and pretty servant greeted him in the laundry chambers.

"The King's laundry again?"

Merlin nodded. "I swear that dollophead will run me down with work not far from now."

The maidservant gasped. "It's inappropriate to speak of the King in such a manner!"

Merlin just grinned, folding his sleeves back and grabbing one of Arthur's shirts.

"Is Merlin here yet?" came a gruff voice from the entrance. Merlin dried off his hands on his pants and readjusted his neckerchief. "I'm over here, ma'am." The woman in question was the current head cook and stared at him with her hands on hips.

"No time to waste, boy! Go fetch some of these from the forest", she said, taking out a list of herbs needed in the kitchen.

Merlin scratched his neck, not knowing what to say. "I'm terribly sorry, madame Audrey, but I ought to do the King's laundry right this instant or he might hang me."

The broad woman growled. "I don't care if you get hanged as long as the king and his wife have something warm in their bellies at the end of the day", she kindly stated. "Take a basket! Off you go!"

And so, Merlin found himself wandering the cold woods surrounding Camelot for a bunch of _herbs_. Perhaps, if it had been Gaius who had asked for them, Merlin would've been more up to the challenge, -but alas, here he was, his sorry self in danger of being put in the stocks yet again because of his overload of work and his little time to do it. Last week he had just saved Arthur from being killed by a resentful ungifted sorcerer, _yet again_ , without Arthur knowing it, _yet again_ , for Merlin to be rewarded with an evening in the stocks for skipping work, _yet again_. It was no surprise any more, really. He rearranged his bag on his shoulder and clutched his basket hard.

 _Gah!_ Merlin crouched to grab for another herb, and suddenly there was a flash of purple light and the wind shook around him, smacking him against a tree and knocking the wind out of his chest. _What…?_ Merlin wondered, but his eyesight was already blurry and his head screaming with pain. Everything went silent, except for the haunted scream that sounded somewhere nearby his left.

 _"_ _ALPHONSE!"_

 _A spell…?_

Then everything went black.

 **Please tell me what you think :)**


	3. 2 Arm of the Devil

**Thanks to all of you beautiful people who are reading this fanfic! And special thanks to everyone who reviewed on last chapter:** ** _Brenne, Maka Ano,_** **and** ** _jadeblackheart4_** **. You made my day!**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned Merlin, I would've made a movie by now. There's no movie. *cries*  
If I owned Fullmetal, I would be Mrs. Elric by now. So no, I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. *cries again* :p**

 **Thanks to all again for your support!**

 **Please go ahead and read. I sincerely hope you enjoy!**

 **Two.:**

 **Arm of the Devil**

When Merlin came to, his head hurt and his wrists throbbed. Slowly, his vision returned, hazy and dim.

"Wha-?" he croaked, but was cut short when there was a sound like a clap and he felt something sharp pressing against his throat. A face appeared in front of him, the source of the threat making itself known. A man- a very young man, with golden hair, blood flowing down the left side of his face and eyes a color eerily similar to the molten gold people's eyes acquired when they performed magic.

 _Oh, I see._ Merlin blearily thought. _An ambush._

He risked a glance at his own hands and was surprised to see them tied up against a tree in some sort of weird, dark rope, stunningly similar to a tree's cortex. He frowned and tried to magic himself out of his bindings, but a blow to the head foiled his attempts. Through his foggy vision, Merlin tried to focus on his surroundings, but at the moment he couldn't. He received a blow to the ribs this time, and he gasped. The stranger yelled, but Merlin found it hard to understand what he said, he must have gotten a concussion.

He hissed a spell to unbind himself, and was stunned when it didn't work. _What is happening?_

The golden-eyed man snarled and yelled something incomprehensible again. A spell? Merlin remembered now. Before he blacked out, this same voice had screamed something. _Alphonse_ , it had said. Some kind of curse?

The stranger spoke again, even angrier. Along his lines, Merlin now could make it out again. Alphonse. He rose his head with difficulty.

"Alphonse?", Merlin inquired.

The man nodded and sneered. Merlin felt relieved: he could at least understand a nod. The metal near on his neck was pushed a little bit further so it bit into his skin, deep enough to almost draw blood. Merlin shook his head as much as he dared in the position he was in. He couldn't do magic right now, and he didn't know what kind of powers this man possessed. If his eyes glowed like that all the time, then his power could even rival that of Emrys.

However, the Thug- as Merlin decided to call him- only seemed to be angered more by his gesture, going into another row of shouting. However, this time around Merlin was pretty sure that his lack of understanding of the stranger's language had nothing to do with a concussion.

"Who are you?"

A scream. A blow.

Merlin coughed.

"I can't understand you! What do you want?!" He said, and received another blow to the jaw. The Thug seemed beside himself with fury and… was that fear Merlin saw in his eyes? His blows were getting weaker, Merlin noted. His screams were turning more desperate and feebler by the second, he observed. In fact, this man was unlike any thug Merlin had ever encountered. He suddenly looked… lost. Could it be that he wasn't a thug at all?

Merlin now paid closer attention to the blood on his face. The gash on his skin looked like claw marks. His face looked clammy and feverish, a crazed look in his eyes. And he was soaking wet. In the middle of the forest, far from the river. His hair dripped water, his clothes clung to his frame. His teeth started chattering in the cold night.

"Sir," Merlin decided to ask politely. "You look as if you are in trouble. I don't think you want to rob me. Let me help y-" again, a fist collided with his stomach, the blade on his neck disappearing.

"Alphonse." Said the man. "Alphonse."

"Please, I-" Merlin started, but didn't make it that far. The man's eyes rolled back and he fell to the floor, unconscious. Merlin gaped.

Time passed and Thug showed no signs of stirring. Merlin then risked using a little magic. It took him a few moments to finally figure out what spell to use to free himself from the strange ropes, as he didn't know their nature, but soon he was free and rubbing his sore wrists. He spotted his sorry basket with herbs scattered all around. He stood on wobbly legs, grabbed it and made a run for his complete freedom. Just as he was about to get out of the clearing and closer to Camelot, however, he stopped himself and turned around. The golden-eyed man wasn't moving. Was that a pool of blood on the floor? If there was a pool of blood under him and he wasn't even conscious to fight, Merlin couldn't just overlook that. He was a physician's apprentice and had long ago learned that he could not dismiss a wounded person. He had also learned not to always assume he knew the wrongdoers' motives. Those were difficult times for everybody, after all.

So Merlin slowly walked towards his fallen attacker, crouching beside him and wincing when his ribs screamed with pain. Thug was breathing. Good. Gently, Merlin rolled him onto his back. Now that he was unconscious, Merlin noted, he looked much younger. Almost a boy. And, God, was he cold. Merlin needed to rid him of his shirt at least to make his medical examination. Luckily for Thug, Merlin had decided to wear his coat that evening, so now he would be able to get him warm- if only just a little.

It was freezing. And it was getting dark.

Merlin analyzed the man's strange clothing. Black trousers, black shirt, a red coat, a pair of heavy looking boots, and gloves. His shirt was turning darker in some areas. Merlin swore. He had forgotten about the blood. He needed to undo his shirt, and fast. His physician instincts taking over, he quickly got Thug out of his shirt, noting the harsh wound on his torso.

But then, Merlin saw a flash of metal and his heart almost stopped. He backed away, terrified. For there, where the man's right arm was supposed to be, was an evil looking limb, similar to that of a human. Merlin's mind raced.

How could this be? What kind of monster was this?

He hadn't encountered anything of the sort in all his adventures.

Merlin shook his head in denial. What was this atrocity?

Only one thing seemed to come to his mind.

 _This arm… This creature… must be the work of the devil._

Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, Edward Elric screamed.

He had been taken away from his brother. He couldn't move. _It seems_ , he thought, as he faintly heard a gasp next to him and the shuffling of feet hastily drawing away _, that I screwed up again. The last thing we did was argue, and it's my fault._

 _I'm dying._

 _Forgive me, little brother._

And with one last thought, he let himself be taken away by oblivion.

 _Alphonse…_

 ** _Please let me know what you think!_**


	4. 3 Of Strange Garments

**I can't say how sorry I am for the long wait. I worked on this chapter for months, but it refused to be written. Finally, I decided to leave it as it is so that I can continue with the rest of the story. So, it's out now, whether it be for better or worse _ Thanks to all those who have been reading, voting or commenting this fanfic- it means a lot to me!  
I hope you enjoy :D**

 **Love, xBookEaterx**

 **Three.:**

 **Of Strange Garments and Communication**

The first thing he noticed was the itch. Slowly creeping onto the left side of his face. Little by little, he felt it climb, as if with tiny feet, over his skin. It dug into his skin, not painfully, at least not at first, but gradually making itself known. It was bothersome. Ed tried very hard not to be bothered by the itchiness, but it was hard not to, when his hands felt too heavy and he couldn't scratch it away.

The itch… It was driving him crazy… He couldn't stand it any longer.

He mustered all his strength and sat up, growling. He opened his eyes, but everything was dark, except for a fire a few paces away. _Huh?_ He scanned the area as he exasperatedly scratched his face, suddenly mindful of the wound he himself had inflicted on it.

Then he saw _him_. Slumped against a tree, _sleeping_ when he probably should be taking watch. Ed gaped at the older man. He remembered now. He had found him unconscious, he had tied him to a tree transmuting ropes out of the cortex, he had beaten him and now… the guy had saved him? Ed remembered he had been dying. So cold… He stared down at himself and found that he had been stripped from his shirt and red coat. His shoulder, which had been bleeding from the strain of the transmutation that had brought him here, was bandaged. His red coat had been replaced by a brown one. The man's, no doubt. Ed wondered if he had recognized him as the Fullmetal Alchemist. Nah. He'd probably be dead if that were the case.

Nevertheless, he had to run away. He couldn't have a stranger holding any kind of power over him. He'd learned on an early stage on life not to trust anybody. He'd have to work with whatever he had to get out of wherever-there-was. He looked around him in the dim light, trying to figure out where the heck he was indeed. Had Ed been transported to another land? Judging by the surrounding trees, the leaves beneath his hands, and the all-too-clean air that struck his nostrils, saying that this was _not_ Central would be a safe bet. Plus, the man was clearly foreign- scratch that- it was Ed that was so very different from him- the Amestrian could feel this was not his home. The man before him seemed to match the nature there: he was extremely tall _(or maybe Ed was too short- no, he was_ not _, dammit!)_ , thin, pale, and had sharp cheekbones and angular nose. His garments' style was a mix between Xingian and Amestrian fashion, but… older? And what the _fuck_ was that thing around the guy's neck? A rag? Strange taste.

Okay, enough of tacky fashion. This was _so_ not his day; Ed was trapped in the middle of who-knows-where, with wounds that he'd gotten from who-knows-who, and stuck with a guy whose intentions where who-knows-what. Great. Why did things like this only happen to him? Today at Central had actually seemed like it could have been a good day, until Mustang came in and ruined his mood. Was that why he was here? He couldn't quite remember; his memory was a bit fuzzy. "That bastard" he muttered. "Just wait 'till I smash your face- agh!" His side exploded with pain. "Bastardbastard _bastard_!" he hissed through clenched teeth. He didn't really know whom he was referring to: Bastard SmugFace, Bastard LetMeTransmuteYou, or Bastard I'mSoStupidICan'tEvenStandWatchOverAStranger. All be damned. He wished he could smash the crap out of all of them. If only he hadn't been transmuted today…

Wait, what?

 _You get what you deserve, murderer!_

 _He's a jerk that cares for us, can't you see that, brother?_

Huh?

 _Why do we always fail, Brother?_

A transmutation circle…

 _It's your fault we are in this mess…_

The blade…

 _We killed her again!_

YOU GET WHAT YOU DESERVE, MURDERER!

MurdererMurdererMurdererMurdererMURDERER

MURDERER

What was happening?

When had everything turned black? Was that a memory, Al's voice? What was going on? His vision was turning blurry. He needed to focus, dammit. His breathing was turning uneven. He could tell he had a fever. His face felt like crap. His side felt like crap. All his skin was on fire. His eyes itched. And it was _so_ freaking _cold_ , dammit. There was a sheen of sweat over his forehead and upper lip. He really needed to dry it off, but he was so tired…

"Hey, Al, would you mind handing me a cloth- ALPHONSE!" he realized with a start that Alphonse was not here, that he'd left his little brother behind, unprotected, alone, after being so mean to him and-

 _Why do we always fail?_

 _Murderer._

 _Brother!_

"Alphonse." He stood up on his unsteady feet breathing heavily. God, it _hurt_. "Alphonse"

The world became a fuzzy blur of orange, red, and black, and, before he knew it-

He opened his eyes.

"Wha-?" His mouth was dry and his tongue felt way too big for his mouth. "What-"he tried again, but was interrupted.

"Shhh" A deep voice, speaking lulling words he couldn't understand. He tried to speak, but his voice came out wrong-

"Pl-se…m' bruth'r…"

A hand was placed beneath his head, pulling it up a little, and soon fresh, heavenly water touched his lips. He drank avidly, barely taking time to breathe. He whimpered when it was taken away.

A cool cloth was placed over his forehead.

"M-mom?" He tried to sit up.

"Shhh." A hand gently pushed him back down.

"Mo', am I sick?" He tried to grasp the figure before him. "Mom… Al… Look f'r Al. He mus' be b' th' river…"

He faintly heard what appeared to be a curse and the sound of someone scurrying away.

Was it his imagination, or was his mother slowly ascending towards the sky? Her dress danced in the wind so beautifully, her smile so sweet it made his heart clench with pain. But why?

"Mom! Al was so mad… Look fo' him-" he coughed, "-by… by the river…"

His mother's smile fell a little, and that made him sad. Was she disappointed that Ed and Al had a disagreement? That once again Ed couldn't handle being the older brother he was meant to be? And what had it been about, again?… He couldn't remember.

It was dark, and he was an armor. He was a soul. No body.

A pointy nail scratched away his blood seal and he screamed and screamed-

Alphonse!

His heart clenched as he tried to grasp his thoughts, as he tried to…

He was so tired.

Perhaps he should just sleep and never wake up.

No, no, no, no, NO! He was losing him!

"Damn, Gaius!" Merlin muttered. "What should I do?!" Merlin put his hands over the stranger's chest. " _Ahlúttre þá séocnes. Þurhhæle bræd. Ahlúttre þá séocnes. Þurhhæle bræd."_

The warlock was desperate. Thanks to his falling asleep on the watch, his patient was facing death once again. Thug might have that revolting arm irradiating evil energy attached to his shoulder, but Merlin couldn't just let him die. He was just a boy, a boy in much suffering, somehow, he could tell. The boy's golden strands of hair were draped in sweat. His brow was furrowed and he kept mumbling gibberish, shifting in his troubled sleep. Sometimes, he screamed. His voice came out raw and desperate. At one point, the metal appendage grabbed a hold of Merlin's arm and squeezed, causing the warlock to gasp in pain.

He instinctively whispered " _Tospringe_ "- and the hand let go.

What was that inhuman force? Merlin thought, becoming genuinely scared by now. This monstrous arm was the work of the most evil sorcery, the darkest forces… There were old sayings, old superstitions Merlin had never wanted to believe, but he found himself wondering: This man had no right hand. At least, not a human one. The right hand had long been a sign of God's blessing upon humans. The left hand was unlucky because the Devil was supposed to have sat on the left-hand side of God before being cast out of heaven. This person lying before him was un-blessed, according to the superstitions. Perhaps he was cursed? When an image of Freya flashed through his mind, however, he shook his head- he knew better than to judge by appearances at this point. Those un-blessed were not always at fault of their condition. So, _what to do?_

In the dim light, he took off his neckerchief and tied it around the boy's wrists when he stopped thrashing for a moment. He hoped it would hold for a bit. He couldn't risk using more magic in front of anyone, not even this unconscious stranger. He looked around. Reaching for his satchel, he took out a cloth which he dampened with water from his canteen, and put it on the boy's forehead. His fever was dangerously high. In his discomfort, his foreign muttering rose.

"Kaa…san?" Thug tried to get up, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Shhh." Merlin slowly pushed him back and rearranged the cloth on the boy's head, when he felt something wet on the hand that had pushed the boy's chest. Blood! How could he have forgotten? The boy had a deadly wound which Merlin had just barely treated. Now it had reopened. He cursed and scurried away, searching in his belongings for something to stitch the wound again with.

Merlin's own brow was dripping with sweat as he worked. He needed to save this man- he didn't know why, but he couldn't bring himself to think of him as evil. _Freya… Lend me your strength. Let me save him, he's just a boy…_ His breath hitched. _And please-_ please, _don't let him be another Mordred._

As Thug kept thrashing around on the floor, screaming, the warlock cleansed the wound, stitched it, applied potions, herbs… The night wore on, with Merlin diligently treating his patient, until the wounded man became a prone, feverish, whispering form. With the renewed silence, the physician's apprentice was having a hard time trying not to get distracted by his berating thoughts: _You bumbling idiot! Couldn't keep your eyes open while on duty? That's unheard of about the King's manservant! What if he dies? What if he dies and it's all your fault? Now you'll have to redo all the work that got you sleepy in the first place!_

His berating mind sounded a bit like Arthur, actually. Funnily enough, when Merlin came back to Camelot from this ordeal tomorrow (he would have to return for a bit, at least), he was sure Camelot's biggest prat wouldn't let him hear the end of it. The thought made him smile ruefully. Maybe it was the fatigue, but he certainly felt like the useless idiot Arthur always claimed him to be. As he wiped the wounded man's brow, he mulled over what Gaius's and Arthur's reaction would be when he didn't come back that night. He sincerely hoped they wouldn't overreact. Arthur, the pompous prat, may pretend that he didn't care for his servant, but he did, and that was that. On one hand, a day in the stocks probably awaited Merlin. On the other, the warlock could only hope Arthur wouldn't come looking for him, for, how would he be able to explain the part-metal man whose eyes shone golden at all times, screaming 'magic'? He sighed and continued to work.

Dawn was breaking by the time Merlin finished his ministrations and slumped back against a tree with a sigh of exhaustion. His whole body felt like lead; he was so tired… yet he didn't allow himself to close his eyes and drift off to sleep. He had to keep watch, even if things were quieter now. The stranger's fever had finally broken, and, though he was sleeping with a furrowed brow, he had calmed down the point where Merlin had felt safe to take away the neckerchief binding his wrists. The red garment was once again loosely tied around Merlin's neck, providing his chest with the slightest warmth on that chilly early morning. The warlock noticed his breath coming out in front of him and shivered, cuddling against the rough bark of the tree. This morning was colder than most that month, which wasn't good news for the wounded stranger- Merlin had to get him to shelter soon, or he could develop a cold on top of things. The servant at least had to get him some covers from the castle- perhaps he could sneak some out of the unused guest rooms? It could get him in a lot of trouble if they got him red handed, but more so would sneaking a golden-eyed stranger into the castle, where all it took to summon glares was to mention the word 'magic'.

He'd better go with stealing blankets.

Merlin waited for hours- maybe more than he should have, for his sake as a manservant- until Thug stirred. The strange boy with a metal arm (and leg, as Merlin had discovered on his second medical check- was he human at all?) groaned, his brow furrowing and his long golden eyelashes shimmering under the light the tree leaves let through. Merlin stood up, torn between checking on his patient or keeping away and gathering his magic should he fight the apparently powerful being. In the end, he decided on the former, though. He was a physician. He rushed to the boy's side and dropped to his knees, left hand reaching out to feel the wounded man's forehead while the other searched for his canteen inside his satchel.

The golden-haired boy grunted. He looked so much better now. The pallor was almost gone from his demeanor.

"Don't worry, sir," Merlin soothed him. "You are in good hands."

He helped him lift his head just enough to drink small gulps of water, but he got a fist in the face for that. His head exploded with pain- had that been the metal fist? He scrambled away, holding out his hand in a menacing gesture; he would use magic, he would-

Except he looked up, and he just couldn't attack: the man (boy?) before him looked lost and a little delirious. He obviously had gotten over the worst stage of his fever, but he still had that glazed look to his eyes. He was shaking and sitting on his heels with his shoulders slumped. His bangs hid most of his face, but Merlin could still see his bared teeth and the faraway look in his eyes slowly turning lucid.

Thug croaked something.

Merlin slowly stood up, nursing what was sure to become a bruised eye.

"I'm sorry, I can't understand you."

"Alphonse."

That word again? It sure sounded like a name. Like 'Alfons'. Could it be that both their languages shared names?

"Are you Alphonse? Is that your name, sir?"

"Alphonse…" He kept muttering while intently staring at Merlin, which was unsettling.

"Um… right. Look, sir. My name is Merlin. I work at… The Rising Sun." No point in becoming a target so fast.

Thug stopped muttering and tilted his head, watching Merlin with distrust. He tried to stand, but winced and gave up. He looked around, searching for something- at first slowly, then in a frantic manner. He felt his pockets, and that's when Merlin realized.

"Oh, your medallion!" He searched his satchel for the strange silver object attached to an extremely thin chain and with a dragon awfully alike to the Pendragon symbol engraved on it. "Here, I found it next to you."

Merlin slowly approached, took the item out and handed it over. The man snatched it from his hand with a growl.

"That dragon... What does it mean? Are you a noble?... You're certainly not a Pendragon- are you? _Where_ are you from?"

A growl and a hiss.

Too many questions, perhaps.

"Okay, okay. I got it. Look." Merlin sighed and started making wide motions while he talked, in hopes the other man could understand him better:

" _You._ Should. Sit. Down. You will injure yourself further."

A look of distrust was sent his way.

"Oh, come on. I'm not gonna hurt you- unless you are a threat." The last part was added as an afterthought. "It doesn't seem like it's going to rain any time soon, so you should just stay put while I go grab some blankets from my place, got it?" Merlin facepalmed in realization. "No, of course not."

The stranger lolled his head to the side, carefully scrutinizing Merlin's face- whatever for, Merlin wasn't sure. Merlin scratched his head, sending the man an earnest look. He wasn't going to hurt him- at least, so long as he wasn't a threat to Arthur. The golden-haired seemed to get the message, since he nodded, as if deciding something and the man pointed at himself with his metal thumb.

He said something to Merlin.

"Sorry, what?"

He muttered the same phrase. A word? Edo… Wa- Edward?

"Is that your name?"

The man stopped his muttering, looking Merlin in the eyes, as if waiting for him to repeat.

"Name." Merlin said. God, Arthur would never let him live this down if he saw the scene the two of them conformed. But this was important. He pointed at the man. "Edward?"

A smile drew itself onto the man's face, making him look a lot younger. Merlin got the feeling that smiling wasn't something he did often- the smile looked the tinniest bit painful. However, that grin got wider, and a strange (almost satisfied or relieved) look took over the unfriendly earlier one.

"Edward."

The pronunciation wasn't quite the same, but it would do. Merlin smiled- he felt his guard going down a little already. That smile just could _not_ be faked. So, he pointed at himself.

"Merlin."

"Meh. Roo. Deen." He croaked in his rough voice.

The warlock laughed. "Merlin."

"Mehrin."

"Sounds acceptable." Merlin started to collect his belongings in a relaxed way. "Then, Edward. Stay. Here. I'm going for blankets. I'll return in a few hours, since there's a _clotpole_ waiting for me."

"Clot… Pole?"

A mischievous smile spread over Merlin's face.

"Yes." He nodded. " _Clotpole_."


End file.
